The next morning, everyone in the capital of Leaartrieya rose early. Immediately, the call to arms was put out, and every soldier in the kingdom's powerful army was gathered there by early morning. They knew the task before them was not to be one of ease or relaxation, but one of those battles fought in bloody and, at times, unfair circumstances. Sir William, the Lothington messenger, and a carefully selected field officer in the disguises of peasants, set off in the early morning hours as well.
The barracks were an uproar of excited chatter among the knights and footmen. The last war against any enemy army was the campaign against the Vikings nearly ten years before, and in that day, ten years was a long time to not even have a skirmish with some opposing force.
The plan was this: the Crimson knight and his two companions were to go three days ahead of the army. Their mission was to scope the capabilities of the enemy force, and send a messenger on horseback to the king. The army would then follow the messenger back to the front lines and proceed with the battle plan. If the messenger did not arrive at the front lines of the king's army in three days, the army would go on anyway.
The three knights' first stop was a small peasant village in the countryside. No one recognized them in their inconspicuous dress; they fit right in with the locals. The bustling village square was the current location of many of the townspeople.
"Keep your eye out for any of the Dark Lord's soldiers," said Sir William to his two companions. The square was filled with peddlers and carts. At each of them, salesmen called out their wares, creating quite a racket. Apart from them, many of the townspeople went about, laden with baskets, buying food and goods. Also, the three knights had been unfortunate enough to ride into town on the day of some great carnival. The roads were clogged for several miles with residents of surrounding villages, en route to this event.
In all the confusion, the three military men were separated from each other. The Lothington messenger, while searching for his comrades, saw several seedy and rough looking vagabonds lurking around the tavern. One who appeared to be a head man of some sort, was dressed in a long, black cloak and had a leather patch over his left eye. at his right side hung a dagger and on his left side was a sword. The other four men were gathered around him, and talked in low, raspy voices. What caught the messenger's eye was the black dragon buckle on the would-be-leader's tightly bound belt. In the beast's claws were two crossed swords, and fired rolled out of its nostrils. The messenger gasped in surprise and shock. The dragon was the symbol of the Dark Lord and Black Knight's forces! Just then, the other two knights appeared, pushing through the crowd to find their comrade. When they saw the group of vagabonds, as well as the evil symbol on the leader's belt, they stopped in their tracks with the Crimson knight eying the men in obvious contempt. The leader suddenly stopped the conversation, and with his hand on his sword, approached the party of royal soldiers. He could not recognize them, fortunately, for their peasant disguises were flawless.
"What do ya want, ya dirty peasant?" he growled in an unpleasant voice. His four companions straightened from their slouching position.
"First of all, I am not a peasant, as you say," said the Crimson Knight; "But I won't tell you verbally who I am; this should inform you." He pulled his sword, the only one like it in the kingdom, out of its long, red scabbard. It was a true general's sword with its blued steel tip and pronounced razor edge. The pommel was a forged brass octagon with a lion and a crown inlayed upon its surface. Upon the glimmering cross guard was the same symbol, and red stained leather made up the handle. More important than all of these details was that every person in the kingdom and abroad knew this great and mighty sword. He held it up for all around him to see, and the men recoiled slightly.
"Now with your question answered, might I ask you one?" he said.
"What are five spies from the Dark Lord such as you doing here?"
The lead man's face quite suddenly turned into the general countenance of one of the castle gargoyles as he yanked his sword from its scabbard with one hand and the dagger from its sheath with the other. Three of the four others did the same, and the fourth tried to run for help. Six muscular villagers blocked his path and lifted him into the air like a squealing pig on the way to the scalding pot.
"Before you get yourselves skewered like meat at a banquet, or hacked to bits in a similar manner, I would suggest that you reconsider your rash decision to draw your sword on the king's general!" said the messenger triumphantly and firmly. The men did not move for several seconds before their leader aimed a vicious thrust at Sir William's torso. He parried it coolly and went on the attack. His two companions engaged the other three criminals, outnumbered. The enemy spies were vicious with the sword, but extremely reckless and risky. They seemed to have boundless energy, however, and they used it with some effect on Sir William and his comrades. The messenger, although well trained, was beginning to falter with his opponent, as the man was a head taller than him and seemed to have the strength of an angry stallion. In the meantime, Sir William's opponent was beginning to regret drawing his sword on the kingdom's best swordsman. Sir William had easily taken the enemy informant's vicious edge and all but turned it against him. His black cloak was slashed and stained red in more than one place, and he was tiring in every muscle of his body. Seeing an opening in his nemesis's guard, Sir William triumphantly thrust his sword into the man's thigh, knocked him to his knees, and placed his sword in front of his throat while flicking his weapons out of his reach. The other three spies, seeing their leader's surrender, laid down their arms and called for quarter along with him.
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